


Now Real Life Has No Appeal

by cancerthecrabbo



Category: Limitless (TV)
Genre: Brian has feelings, Ferris Bueller's Day Off - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post "Brian Finch's Black Op", Post s01ep07, Protective Rebecca, vague description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancerthecrabbo/pseuds/cancerthecrabbo
Summary: "He almost tripped on the way up, so Mike ended up scooping him up in bridal style. Brian muttered something about needing to be taken out on a date, slurring heavily, and then went limp, head lolling on his bodyguard's shoulder."Or, the one in which Brian has actual feelings and Rebecca watches a movie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Marina and the Diamonds or any of their songs.

Brian's day off had gone off the rails and into _holy-shit-this-isn't-fun-at-all_ town the moment a taser was pushed against his belly. It had gotten worse and worse as he woke up in a rubber dinghy, overheard death threats, and finally witnessed murder. Murders. Brian saw Rooney's eyes open wide, then for a split second he saw the light vanish from his eyes. His stomach pushed against his throat and damn near emptied itself when Roo- no, the _corpse_ fell to the ground with a thud. His head spun when the other guy, Abe Froman, walked over with his gun held out toward the body instead of toward Cameron, who had just shot his boss. _What the hell_ , he thought, _What the actual hell is going on?_

The next thing he knew, he was walking around in the forest when Cameron shot Froman without a second's hesitation. His stomach cramped from the effort of not throwing up. Cameron's gun brushed his skin, and then pressed on it until it dug into his jaw and forced him to stare at the now dead man. His face slackened and tightened as he watched Basayev grab a knife. In his mind, he thought about what could happen. Basayev was still worth 5 million dollars if was dead. Brian was "insurance", but he already knew he was expendable. If he warned Cameron about the incoming knife, no doubt they would both be killed instantly. However, if he stayed quiet, the crazy Russian guy would then be focused on him and Cameron would be dead. He would be dead because Brian shut his mouth.

So he let the blade slide across Cameron's throat and watched as the blood sprayed. Big, fat drops of the blood landed on his face, but he didn't feel it. This time he saw the (albeit maniacal) gleam die out. He _watched_ the man die. He looked on as decades of experiences were destroyed. There was a _thump_. A few leaves trembled. A bird's call, then its wings rustling the foliage, cut through the silence. Brian's breathing hitched once, twice, and then went too quickly. He looked up at Basayev whose murderous gaze raked over him and scrambled back. His foot hit nothing, his body lurched back, and suddenly he was turning over and over, a mess of elbows and knees and flailing limbs smacking against the rocks and hard-packed dirt.

" _I tried to save you,"_ Brian begged. _"Thank you,_ " he said, still alive. _"It could kill you,_ " he warned.

" _That is a kind of peace, too,"_ Aleksey said, popping the pill into his mouth and walking off.

Brian tried to find the edge of woods, to get _somewhere_ other than where three men were killed. He saw Sloan-Rebecca, glowing and trying to get him to get off his ass even though he wasn't on NZT. He must be hallucinating, either from a concussion or whatever the hell else could cause him to see things. Instead of striving for survival though, he let out a scream of fear, of frustration, of _get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here_. Dimly he wondered if there were wolves or snakes in the area, but he couldn't remember without the NZT. _Useless,_ he thought. Then he closed his eyes and didn't open them. When he finally pried them open, Rebecca was there, saving Ferris. She pulled him up carefully, wincing when he let out a sharp groan. Then she frantically called over Mike and Ike (the names had stuck with her) when Brian's legs buckled under him and she could only support half his body. She handed him over to the two men and stayed close behind as they headed toward the car. He almost tripped on the way up, so Mike ended up scooping him up in bridal style. Brian muttered something about needing to be taken out on a date, slurring heavily, and then went limp, head lolling on his bodyguard's shoulder. Mike carefully placed him inside the car and buckled his seatbelt as if the lanky man was a child. A child with blood that isn't his own on his face.

Rebecca swung around and scooted into the seat next to Brian and nudged his head on to her shoulder. Even through her jacket she should feel his freezing cheek. His hands were pale and cold, too. She resisted the urge to cup them both in her hands to try and warm them up and simply sat in the car as the doors were closed and they began the journey back to headquarters. It was silent for the entire ride except for once, right in the middle, when he woke up with a panicked, choked gasp. She hushed him and calmed him down until he was out cold again. Brian woke up again when they arrived at 9 am, back in civilization and he didn't peel his eyes off of the bullet-proof glass the entire time. He drank in the buildings, the people, everything that took his mind off of that damned forest.

They arrived at the headquarters soon after. Brian stepped carefully into the cold morning air and relished how it smelled like gasoline and wet cement. It was foggy at the moment, so later that day would probably be hot. Thoughts of checking the weather on his phone or the TV filled his mind, making something that felt like relief or giddiness flutter in his stomach and brush against his ribs. He realized a moment later than he just felt like throwing up, so he clapped a hand over his mouth and pressed his back against the car behind him. Despite having something solid to lean on, he felt like he was suddenly placed on a seesaw. The world tilted violently and blurred into a mess of colors and light and shadows. Someone picked him up again, but they felt different than Mike. After spending so much time with his two bodyguards, he could discern which one was holding him. It was almost comical. Brian would've commented on it and laughed but if he opened his mouth, he would vomit all over of Ike's suit, which would probably also end up on him. So he waited until they were inside and a swarm of nurses and doctors checked him over and held out a bucket. He immediately let his stomach empty itself and tried to focus on the comforting hands rubbing at his shoulders. They were daintier than his own, but still firm. Rebecca.

It was all a blur after that, full of IV's and tests, and people telling him to keep his eyes open because apparently he has a pretty bad concussion. He was stuck between lightly dozing and being barely conscious, some of reality bleeding into his occasional dreams. He was exhausted the entire time because he wasn't actually able to rest. The crowd of nurses and doctors dissipated, but occasionally someone with a lab coat would ask him questions about his name, where he was, and what year it is. Brian answered them all correctly, which must have been a good sign because the doctor always smiled at him and Rebecca pats his hand. She stayed by his side the entire time and afterward when Naz wanted to question him. By then he was pretty lucid and was left with a bruised ankle, ribs, some scrapes and cuts, and one hell of a headache.

In Naz's office, he found out their names. Rooney was actually John Kellerman, who was shot first in the little shack. Abe Froman's real name was Mikols Petrov and Cameron's was Kyle Hollinger. For some reason, knowing their real names made Brian's heart clench. Three men were dead, three different lives snuffed out in the span of one day. One really shitty day. Aleksey Basayev was probably dead, too, or dying _right now_ because of that stupid pill. Now Brian was left here, in an office explaining just how he had managed to get the sort-of-terrorist and two soldiers to kill each other. As he began to talk his voice hitched and trembled. He didn't like the way Naz and Rebecca had pity in their eyes. So he detached himself from the situation and pretended like it was story he was summarizing and tried not to think about the dead bodies in the woods rotting away. He tried not to think about their dead eyes and how predators would no doubt find them and-

" _Well the only thing I heard was the sound of him choking on his own blood_."

Brian detached himself from the situation. His fingers twitched and he almost brought them up to where the dried blood had been scrubbed off. He numbed his mind and walked out of the room with shaky legs. He stretched his lips in what he hoped was a smile and looked Rebecca in the eye. He relaxed a bit when he started talking to her, though. It was easier to smile when Rebecca was involved because she just reminded him of home. ( _You're lying t-_. He pushed the thought to the back of his head before it could form. He was okay. She was okay.)

They walked all the way to his parent's house even though it was at least 10 blocks away. On the way there, he called his dad and told him he was coming over with a friend to watch a movie. Despite this, he didn't stay. He couldn't stand being in the same space as his family right now, not when his thoughts were full of dead men rotting away in the woods. When he looked at his father, he almost threw up. He looked so happy to have his son there, his son which may have committed manslaughter. He paled when his mother placed her hand on his shoulder with a kiss on his cheek. Rebecca took over and smiled prettily, grabbing the movie and saying that they would watch it at Brian's house. It was pretty early, after all. His parents caved easily at the prospect of not having to be hosts at 12 am.

Rebecca bustled around the room and grabbed 3 different blankets from the bedroom and set up the movie while Brian collapsed on the cough and dragged his knees up to his chin. She sat next to him and allowed him to scoot into her side. Brian's entire body was still tight with tension, ready to spring into action. Or run away from a murderous Russian man. He shuddered. Rebecca let him wrap his arms around her and draped her arm around his shaking shoulders, keeping half of her mind on him and the other half on the movie. It was a funny and entertaining film, but Brian starting shaking halfway through. She kept the movie going and simply wrapped the three blankets tighter around them. She rubbed his back when she felt tears land on her shoulder and held back tears of her own. She knew his innocence was shattered, and whatever illusion of youth was gone, too. By the time the movie had ended, Brian had sobbed and cried himself out, falling asleep against her with a red nose, cheeks, and eyes. She leaned against couch with his head in her lap, both of them with a blanket over them. Brian was curled in on himself and Rebecca was stretched out, oddly comfortable. She slept well, even though Brian woke her up when he had a nightmare.

Rebecca was worried, obviously. Brian was thrust into the life of an FBI agent so quickly and without any consideration for him, for his mental health, for his own life. Yesterday he was taken from them so _easily_. They had no control over his safety and now he was no doubt traumatized. She was uneasy now, knowing that they could lose him all over again, and who knows if he would come back? What is he was hurt, or killed? What if next time it wasn't the CIA, but some organization that wants to experiment on him? Rebecca tightened her hold on Brian. He seemed so fragile when he was asleep, so open and trusting. What if she couldn't protect him? She _had_ to be there for him from now on, to keep him from harm. One more horrific incident like this and she had no doubt Brian wouldn't be able to bounce back from it. Something inside her clenched, and her heart burned with protectiveness. She wouldn't _ever_ let this happen to Brian again.

The next morning Mike and Ike didn't comment on how she made him coffee and eggs and he didn't make many snarky comments. They didn't say anything about how tired he looked and how his hands shook, even though he said he was okay now. At work, his assigned case was lacking in murder or anything bloody. For the next week, nothing he tackled even mentioned a death.

And if Rebecca was a little harsher on anyone that even _looked_ at Brian wrong, no one said anything.


End file.
